


Lacrimosa

by EctoHoltzmann



Category: Batwoman (TV 2019)
Genre: Blood and Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29236896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EctoHoltzmann/pseuds/EctoHoltzmann
Summary: Alice has always had voices in her head. Some much louder than others.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	Lacrimosa

**Author's Note:**

> **A quick character study about a character with bipolar and bpd, by an author with bipolar and bpd. :) What can I say, she's my comfort character.**

She sat there, in a dark room, in dark times, with dark thoughts. She was often like this now. Teetering back and forth between a strange, mercurial, sense of madness and short-lived moments of lucidity. Was the reality of the Rabbit Hole as dark as this? Wasn't it supposed to be bright and colorful, with fanciful characters and impossible things? Impossible. Impossible was something she had been tormented by yet lived through. Did that make her stronger or did it simply damage her more? Was she even really here? Sitting her at her oddly neat desk in her oddly haphazard den of madness and ill-constructed mannequins? Perhaps...

Alice leaned back, shifting in her high-backed chair of sharp implements as her even sharper thoughts carved more scars into her memories. She closed her eyes, blocking out the room that surrounded her. There were dancing lights behind her eyes, flicking about with a fervor. Sometimes it was as if _she_ was trying to push her way out. But Alice knew better than to trust that sort of motion. Manipulation was her strong point and she wouldn't let some other woman fool her and lull her into a false sense of security.

What to do, what to do?...

She lounged in her seat, kicking her legs out over one arm of the chair as she let her head hang off it's partner. Sometimes the voices mocked her. Drudging up the past like some poorly hidden internet search history... one that spread out all your fears and failures in front of you like a deck of cards, painted red with blood. Sometimes they were encouraging. Helping orchestrate a multitude of schemes. She was calculating after all. Methodical, even.

**THE TEA'S GONE COLD, ALICE!**

Her eyes opened to the darkness. All of the lights, like colorful fireflies, vanishing in an instant. Her heart raced as it jumped into her throat like it was late for a very important date. Alice sat up with a start, struggling to breathe as she tried to focus her gaze on _something_ so the ringing voice in her ears would stop. Unable to find something to draw her interest, she rested her head in her hand, taking in a deep breath. Alice found her face wet with tears, straightening herself up as she looked down at her palms. They were wet and gloveless, her familiar lace accessories long forgotten on her desk. 

**WHAT DID I TELL YOU?!**

She stared down at her hands, both resting in her lap, palms up. She was unmarred once. But those days of childish hope were long behind her. Those died along with _Beth_. Her hands nestled into the soft chiffon on her layered skirt. She could barely feel the sensation on her palms, the nerves long since seared.

**IF IT'S TOO HOT FOR THE HANDS, IT'S TOO HOT FOR THE LIPS!**

Small droplets tapped against the back of her hands. Alice blinked a few times, vision blurring with an unwelcome display of vulnerability. Or was it simply the result of an uncontrolled gamut of moods. Alice ripped her hands away from her skirt, burying her head in them, lacing her fingers through her hair roughly. She tightened her grip until she could feel the painful pull of the strands, fingernails scraping against her scalp roughly.

Anything. She needed anything but the sound of that awful woman's voice ringing in her skull. There were whispers echoing in her head. Taunts and teasing. She gritted her teeth. It needed to stop. She needed silence.

"SHUT UP!" Alice snapped her head up. "SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" She stood with enough force to send her chair falling back with a loud thud. Everywhere she turned, it was as if she saw _her_ in the corner of her vision. "Haven't you done enough, you old wretch?!" Was that a hint of panic in her voice?

Alice took a few steps back, eyes darting around the room as she turned her head every few seconds. As if she was hoping to catch the old woman. It was cacophonous. She spun, sure she had heard the click and clack of low set heeled shoes on the concrete floor. _Nothing_. The lithe woman began to hyperventilate. "SHOW YOURSELF!" Alice's words tore themselves from her throat like a shriek. 

Her eyes were still blurry. Even as she tried in vain to wipe the tears from them, trying to catch a better glimpse of the witch that masqueraded as a _Queen_. Something fluttered at the corner of her vision and she threw a punch wildly, a deep panic setting in as a loud crack of plastic echoed through the warehouse. She couldn't feel the pain stemming from her hand, nor the feeling of the blood dripping off her fingers. Alice simply followed the flickering vision of her past, heart pounding as she tried again to wipe her face. She had only succeeded in smearing some of blood from her sliced hand into her eyes, reddening her sight. The sound of the now broken mannequin clattering to the floor was lost to her. 

"What do you want from me?!" She choked out the words, trying to find her nonexistent prey through the dim light.

**You know what I want**

Alice froze. That _voice_ sent an icy chill down her spine. She was rooted in place. Even as she willed herself to turn around, to face the voice, she found she couldn't. It was as if something wouldn't let her. "N-no..."

**SPEAK UP, GIRL!**

She jumped with a start, visibly shaking as she kept thrashing her head from side to side. Alice killed her, she was dead, so why wouldn't she leave her alone? 

There was a long pause, a silence that seemed to echo through the somewhat cluttered warehouse. Alice struggled to catch her breath, calming her frantic heart with every gulp of air until she felt more light-headed than anxious. She forced the air into her nose and out through her mouth with steady precision, urging her senses to ease. The world seemed to open up around her as she tilted her face towards the ceiling, letting her shoulders relax. 

"No. You're dead, I'm alive. I made sure of that." 

The Queen would always taunt her, a whisper just behind her eyes. It was then that she felt the warmth run down her fingers, dripping onto the floor, a hint of rhythmic taps on the cold concrete slap under her feet. As much as she felt utterly alone in the cold city of Gotham, she always had the Queen. The old bat whispered slander and venomous words, but she was used to that... wasn't she? Certainly she was used to the abuse at this point in her life. 

The blonde opened her eyes, letting the blue hues focus on some point off in the distance above her for a prolonged moment before gazing down at her injured hand. The blood having stemmed for the most part, slow moving red streaks staining her porcelain skin. Alice tilted her head in thought, an idea dawning on her as she grinned manically to herself.

"I'll show you a _Red_ Queen." Alice breathed out slowly, clenching her fist tightly. The blonde embraced the sharp pain from her nails, rolling her shoulders with a shiver. Alice loosened her grip, releasing the tension from her body, thoughts now resolute with purpose. Pushing the feelings down into the darkest depths of herself, burying it down further than any grave she had ever had to dig, even her own... once upon a time. 

She had work to do, and voices to push out. 

"A _Red_ Alice." She smiled to herself. It had a good ring to it.


End file.
